Blackadder Meets HP3: Major Star
by Juniper Baggant
Summary: The House Elf Revolution produces two appalling results, an offensive by the Death Eaters and a really offensive Weasley Brother impression by Goyle. Starring Bitter!Draco


Blackadder Meets HP3: Major Star

DISCLAIMER: Based on the HP books by J.K. Rowling and the 'Major Star' episode from Blackadder Goes Forth. No money is being made and no copyrights are being infringed.

Scene 1: Draco Malfoy's Dugout

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(In the army barracks, sound of whistling is heard. Captain Draco Malfoy sighs.)

Lt. Vincent Crabbe: You're a bit cheezed off, Sir?

Malfoy: Crabbe, the day this war began I was cheezed off. Within ten minutes of you turning up, I finished the cheese and moved on to the coffee and cigars. And at this late stage, I'm in a cab with two lady companions on my way to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.

Crabbe: Oh well, because if you are cheezed off, you know what would cheer you up, a Weasley Brother film. Oh, I love the Weasley Brothers, don't you, Cap?

Malfoy: Unfortunately no I don't. I find their films about as funny as getting an arrow through the neck and discovering there's a bill tied to it.

Crabbe: Ah, beg pardon, Sir, but come off! Their films are ball-bouncingly funny.

Malfoy: Rubbish!

Crabbe: Alright, why let's consult the men for a casting vote, shall we? Goyle?

Private Gregory Goyle: (Entering.) Sir!

Crabbe: The Weasley Brothers, Goyle. What do you make of them?

Goyle: Oh, Sir, they're as funny as a vegetable that's grown into a rude and amusing shape, Sir.

Malfoy: So you agree with me. Not at all funny?

Crabbe: Oh come on, Skipper, it ain't fair. I haven't asked for all of this. When they kicked that fellow in the backside, I thought I'd die!

Malfoy: Well, if that's your idea of comedy, we can provide our own without paying for the privilege. (Kicks Goyle.) There, you find that funny?

Crabbe: Well, no of course not, Sir, but you see, the Weasley Brothers are geniuses.

Malfoy: They certainly are geniuses, Crabbe. They invented a way of getting a million galleons a year by wearing stupid trousers. Did you find that funny, Goyle?

Goyle: What funny, Sir?

Malfoy: (Kicks Goyle again.) That funny.

Goyle: No, Sir, you mustn't do that to me, Sir, because that is an act of repression, Sir.

Malfoy: What?

Goyle: I think I smelt it, Sir, there's something afoot in the wind. The huddled masses yearning to be free.

Malfoy: Goyle, have you been through the firewhiskey again?

Goyle: No, Sir, I've been sopping the milk of freedom. Already our House Elf comrades are poised on the brink of Revolution. And here too, Sir, the huddled what's-names such as myself, Sir, are ready to throw off the hated oppressors like you and the Lieutenant. Present company excepted, Sir.

Malfoy: House Elf comrades? Goyle, before your family's property was seized you had over 50 House Elves in your employ. Now, I know you're disapointed it was all taken away but I hardly think you need start siding with vermin. Now, go and clean out the latrines.

Goyle: Yes, Sir, right away, Sir. (Exits.)

Crabbe: Now the reason why the Weasley Brothers are so funny is because they're part of a Great Wizarding Music Hall tradition.

Malfoy: Oh yes, the Great Wizarding Music Hall Tradition. Two men, with incredibly unconvincing Cockney accents, going: "What's up with you then? What's up with me then? Yeah, what's up with you then?" (Shouting.) GET ON WITH IT!

Crabbe: Now, Sir, that was funny! You should have gotten a part yourself!

Malfoy: Thank you, Crabbe, but if you don't mind, I'd rather have my tongue beaten wafer-thin by a steak tenderizer and then stapled to the floor with a Quidditch hoop.

(Loud voices are heard outside.)

Goyle: (Rushing in.) Sir, Sir, it's all over the trenches!

Malfoy: Well, mop it up then.

Goyle: No, Sir, the news. The House Elf Revolution has started. The masses have risen up and shoveled their nobs!

Crabbe: Well, hurrah!

Malfoy: (Reading a newspaper.) Oh no, the House Elves have pulled out of the war.

Crabbe: Well, we soon sawed them off, didn't we, Sir? Miserable bug-eyed, big-eared swine.

Malfoy: The House Elves are on our side, Crabbe.

Crabbe: Oh really?

Malfoy: Yes, you see, since most of the pureblood families have either fallen into ruin or had their property seized, the majority of House Elves are held by members of the "Light" side... And they've abandoned the Eastern Front.

Goyle: And they've overthrown their owners.

Malfoy: Apparently they resented fighting for freedom and equal rights for _other_ people and now the House Elves have made peace with Voldemort. At this very moment, Death Eaters are leaving the Eastern Front and coming over here with the express purpose of using my nipples for target practice. There's only one thing for it, I'll have to desert and I'm going to have to do it...right now.

(Enter General Cornelius Fudge.)

Fudge: Are you leaving us, Malfoy?

Malfoy: No, Sir.

Fudge: Well I'm relieved to hear it. I need you to help me shoot more deserters later on. There have been some subversive mutterings amongst the men. You'll recall the Beauxbaton army last year at Verdun where the top echelons suffered from horrendous uprisings from the bottom.

Malfoy: Yes, Sir, but surely that was traced to a shipment of garlic éclairs.

Fudge: Nonsense, Malfoy! It was bolshevist. Plain bolshevist! And now that the House Elves have followed suit, I'm damned if I can let the same thing happen here.

Malfoy: Oh, and what are you going to do about it, Sir?

Fudge: I'm going to have a concert party to boost the men's morale.

Crabbe: A concert party? Well, hurrah!

Fudge: You fancy an evening at a concert party, Malfoy?

Malfoy: Well, frankly, Sir, I'd rather spend an evening on top of a stepladder in No-Man's-Land smoking cigarettes through a luminous balaclava.

Fudge: Well, I didn't think it would be your cup of tea, but I do need someone to help me organize it, you know. Obviously not a tough grizzled old soldier like yourself, but some kind of dandified nancy-boy who will be prepared to spend the rest of the war in the Diagon Alley Palladium.

Malfoy: The show's going to the Diagon Alley Palladium, Sir?

Fudge: Oh, yes, of course. No good crushing the Revolution over here only to get back home to Blighty and find that everyone's wearing white masks and murdering muggles in the palaces of the mighty.

Malfoy: Good point, Sir.

Fudge: So the thing is, Malfoy, finding a man to organize a concert party is going to be damn difficult. So, I've come up with rather a cunning set of questions with which to test the candidate's suitability for the job.

Malfoy: And what sort of questions would these be, Sir?

Fudge: Well, the first question is, 'Do you like the Weasley Brothers?'

Malfoy: (Looks at Crabbe.) Dismissed, Lieutenant. (Crabbe salutes and starts to leave.) 'Do you like the Weasley Brothers?' Yes, that is a good question for a candidate, ah, to which my answer would of course be, 'Yes, I love them, love them, Sir, particularly the amusing kicks.

Crabbe: But I thought you said...

Malfoy: (Abruptly.) Goodbye, Crabbe. (Crabbe leaves.)

Fudge: And the second question is, 'Do you like music hall?'

Malfoy: Ah, yes, another good question, Sir. Again, my answer would have to be 'Yes, absolutely love it.'

Fudge: Umm, yes. Well, it's in my view, Malfoy, that a person who would answer 'yes' to both questions would be ideal for the jo- (Realizes Malfoy's early affirmative responses.) Wait a minute.

Malfoy: What, Sir?

Fudge: (Laughs.) Why, without knowing it, Malfoy, you've inadvertently shown me that you can do the job.

Malfoy: Have I, Sir?

Fudge: Yes, Sir! You have, Sir. And I want you to start work straight away. A couple of shows over the weekend and if all goes well, we'll start you off in Diagon Alley next Monday.

Malfoy: Oh...damn.

Fudge: If you need any help fixing and carrying and backstage and so on, I'll lend you my driver if you like. (Calls out.) Bob!

(Private Ginny Weasley enters...the driver Bob.)

GWeasley: (Militaristically.) Driver Weasley reporting for duty, Sir!

Fudge: Alright, at ease, Bob, stand easy. Captain Malfoy, this is Bob.

Malfoy: (Recognizing GWeasley.) Bob?

GWeasley: Good morning, Sir.

Malfoy: Unusual name for a girl.

Fudge: Oh, yes, it would be an unusual name for a girl, but it's a perfectly straightforward name for a young chap like you, eh, Bob? Now, Bob, I want you to bunk up with Captain Malfoy for a couple of days, alright?

GWeasley: Yes, Sir.

Fudge: I think you'll find Bob just the man for this job, Malfoy. He has a splendid sense of humor.

Malfoy: He, Sir? He? He?

Fudge: You see, you're laughing already! Well then, Bob, I'll leave you two together, why don't you get to know each other, play a game of gobstones, have a smoke, something like that. They tell me that Captain Malfoy has rather a good line in rough shag. Um, I'm sure he'd be happy to fill your pipe. Carry on. (Exits.)

Malfoy: So you're a 'chap', are you, Bob?

GWeasley: Oh yes, Sir. (Laughs in a low voice.)

Malfoy: You wouldn't say you were a girl at all?

GWeasley: Oh, definitely not, Sir. I'm obsessed with Qudditch, I fart in bed, everything.

Malfoy: Let me put it another way, Bob, you are a girl. And you're a girl with as much talent for disguise as a giraffe in dark glasses trying to get into a 'Polar Bears Only' golf club.

GWeasley: Oh, Sir, please don't give me away, Sir. I just wanted to be like my brothers and join up. I want to see how a real war is fought...so badly.

Malfoy: Well, you've come to the right place, Bob. A war hasn't been fought this badly since Olaf the Hairy, Chief of all the Ogres, accidentally ordered 80,000 battle helmets with the horns on the inside.

GWeasley: You won't give me away, will you, Sir?

Malfoy: No…it might be nice to have some intelligent company around here for once.

GWeasley: I just want to do my bit for the boys, Sir.

Malfoy: Oh really?

GWeasley: I'll do anything, Sir!

Malfoy: Yes, now I'd keep that to yourself, if I was you.

Scene 2: Draco Malfoy's Dugout

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(Malfoy and GWeasley are going over the acts for the concert hall show.)

Malfoy: Alright, Bob, the second half starts with Corporals Smith and Finch-Fletchly as the Three Silly Twerps.

GWeasley: Alright, Sir.

Malfoy: The big joke being that there's only two of them.

(Goyle laughs.)

Malfoy: Followed by Goyle's impersonation of the Weasley Brothers.

(Goyle performs his impersonation which consists of him putting on a hat and making funny faces.)

Malfoy: Bob, take a letter.

GWeasley: Yes, Sir.

Malfoy: 'Messers G. and F. Weasley, 75 Diagon Alley, London, England. Stop. Have discovered only person in the world less funny than you. Stop. Name Gregory Goyle. Stop. Yours, D. Malfoy. Stop.' Oh, and put a PS. 'Please, please, please stop.' Now after that, we have, ladies and gentlemen, the highlight of our show.

Goyle: Ta-da...

(Enter Crabbe in drag.)

Crabbe: I feel fantastic!

Malfoy: Vivacious Vincina, the traditional soldier's drag act.

Goyle: You look absolutely lovely, Sir.

Malfoy: Well, Goyle, you are either blind or mad. The Lieutenant looks as all soldiers look on these occasions, about as feminine as Hagrid. What are you going to give them, Crabbe?

Crabbe: Well, I thought one or two cheeky gags, one followed by 'She was only the Hippogriff Keeper's daughter but she knew a surprising amount about dragons as well'.

Malfoy: (Sarcastic.) Inspired. Well, at least you made an effort with the dress, what is your costume, Goyle?

Goyle: I'm in it, Sir.

Malfoy: I see. So your Weasley Brother costume consists of only that hat.

Goyle: Except that in this box, I've a dead slug as a brilliant false moustache.

Malfoy: Yes, it's not quite brilliant, I fear. How, for instance, are you to attach it to your face?

Goyle: Well, I was hoping to persuade the slug to cling on, Sir.

Malfoy: Goyle, the slug is dead. If it failed to cling on to life, I see no reason that it should cling on to your upper lip.

Crabbe: Goyle, Goyle, come on. Slugs are always a problem. What you do is screw your face up like this you see and you can clamp it between your top lip and your nose.

Goyle: (Leaning backward.) What? Like this, Sir?

Crabbe: See, that's it, that's good. (To Malfoy.) Sir, Sir, there's a visitor to see you.

Malfoy: (Faking, but convincing.) Merlin, Mr. Weasley! This is indeed an honor. Why, this calls for some sort of celebration. Goyle, Goyle!

(Goyle and Crabbe start snickering.)

Crabbe: Sir, that is extraordinary, because, because this isn't Weasley at all. This is Goyle.

Goyle: It is, it's me, Sir!

Malfoy: I know, I know. I was, in fact being sarcastic.

Crabbe: Oh, I see. Umm.

Malfoy: Everything goes above your head, doesn't it, Crabbe? You should go to Jamaica and become a limbo dancer.

Scene 3: Backstage at the Concert

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(Crabbe is seen giving encores.)

GWeasley: They love him, Sir. We're a hit!

Malfoy: Yes, in one short evening, I've become the most successful impresario since the manager of the Diddling Dwarf in Lancanshire thought of hiring Veela dancers, at least until someone undertipped one of them and they all slaughtered the owner, the patrons, and a cat named Mr. Whiskers...

Goyle: Sir, some people seem to think I was best! Do you agree?

Malfoy: Goyle, in the Amazonian rain forests, there are tribes of Indians yet untouched by either Magical or Muggle civilization who could develop more convincing Weasley impressions.

Goyle: Thank you very much, Sir.

GWeasley: (Referring to Crabbe aka Vincina.) He's coming out.

Crabbe: What do you think, Bob, one more? Merlin, I love attention! (Goes onstage once more before joining Malfoy and company.) It's in my blood and soul. (Hands Goyle a bouquet.) Goyle, put this in some water, will you?

(Goyle dunks the flowers upside-down in a bucket of water.)

Crabbe: I need that applause in the same way that an osler needs his osle.

GWeasley: Well done, Sir!

Crabbe: (Being modest.) No, I really, I was hopeless. (To Malfoy.) I mean, tell me honestly, Sir, I was, wasn't I?

Malfoy: Well...

Crabbe: No, no, no, come on, Sir. Out with it, 'cos I really need to know, I was hopeless.

Malfoy: No...

Crabbe: You're trying to be nice and that's very sweet of you, but Sir, please, I can take it. I was hopeless.

Malfoy: Crabbe, you were bloody awful!

(Crabbe starts to sob.)

Malfoy: But you can't argue with the box office. Personally, I thought you were the least convincing female impressionist since Third year when Longbottom put that boggart of Snape in a dress and a feathered hat. But I'm clearly in the minority. Look out London, here we come!

Scene : Percy Weasley's Office

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(Captain Percy Weasley sits at his desk. Malfoy enters.)

Malfoy: Ah, Captain Weasley.

PWeasley: Ah, Captain Malfoy. I must say, I had an absolutely splendid evening.

Malfoy: Oh, glad you enjoyed the show.

PWeasley: The show? Oh, I couldn't go to the show. Important regimental business.

Malfoy: A cart load of paper clips arrived?

PWeasley: (Twitches.) Two cart loads, actually.

Fudge: (Enters.) Ah, welcome to the great director, Maestro.

Malfoy: You enjoyed it, Sir?

Fudge: Well, it was mostly awful, but I enjoyed the slug balancer.

Malfoy: Private Goyle, Sir.

Fudge: That's right, yes. The slug fell off a couple of times, but it wasn't bad...you can't have everything, can you? I just suggest a bit more practice and perhaps a sparkly costume for the slug.

Malfoy: I'll pass that on, Sir.

Fudge: But I do have certain other reasons for believing the show to be nothing but a triumph. Captain Weasley has your travel arrangements, ticket to Dover, rooms at the Wizard's Ascot and so forth.

Malfoy: Oh, thank you, Sir.

Fudge: However, there is one small thing you can do for me.

Malfoy: Yes?

Fudge: Captain Malfoy, I should esteem it a single honor if you would allow me to escort your leading lady to the regimental ball this evening.

Malfoy: My leading lady?

Fudge: The fair Vincina.

Malfoy: Ah, ha-ha, very amusing.

Fudge: You think she'll laugh in my face? I'm too old, too crusty?

Malfoy: Uh, no, no. It's just as her director, I'm afraid I could not allow it.

Fudge: I can always find another director who would allow it!

Malfoy: Quite. I'll see what I can do, but I must insist that she be home by midnight and that there'll be no hanky-panky, Sir, whatsoever.

Fudge: I shall, of course, respect your wishes, Malfoy. However I don't think you need to be quite so protective. I'm sure she's a girl with a great deal more spunk than most women you can find.

Malfoy: Oh, dear.

Scene 5: Draco Malfoy's Dugout

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Crabbe: Absolutely not, Sir. It's profoundly immoral, and utterly wrong. I will not do it.

Malfoy: We can always find another leading lady.

Crabbe: Well, the dress will need a clean.

Malfoy: Excellent. Now the important thing is that Fudge should, under no circumstances, realize that you are a man.

Crabbe: Yes, yes, I understand that.

Malfoy: In order to insure this, there are three basic rules. One, you must never, I repeat, never remove your wig.

Crabbe: Right.

Malfoy: Second, never say anything. Tell him at the beginning of the evening that you're saving your voice for the opening night in London.

Crabbe: Excellent, Sir. And what's the third?

Malfoy: The third is most important, don't get drunk and let him shag you on the veranda.

Scene 6: Fudge's Private Quarters

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(Fudge puts on an impressive medaled red jacket. PWeasley is with him.)

Fudge: (After a few sounds of self-satisfaction.) How do I look, Weasley?

PWeasley: Girl-bait, Sir. Pure bloody girl-bait.

Fudge: Moustache? Bushy enough?

PWeasley: Like a private hedge, Sir.

Fudge: Good, because I want to catch a particularly beautiful creature in this bush tonight.

PWeasley: You'll be combing her out of your moustache for a week, Sir.

Fudge: Merlin, it's a spankingly beautiful world and tonight's my night. I know what I'll say to her. 'I want to make you happy'

PWeasley: (Thinking that Fudge is addressing him.) Well, that's very kind of you, Sir.

Fudge: What?

PWeasley: Um, I don't know, Sir.

Fudge: Well don't butt in! (Exhales.) If you don't listen, how can you tell me what you think? (Continues.) 'I want to make you happy, Darling. I want to build a nest for your ten tiny toes. I want to cover every inch of your gorgeous body in pepper and sneeze all over you.'

PWeasley: I really think I must protest!

Fudge: What is the matter with you, Weasley?

PWeasley: Well, it's all so sudden; I mean the nest bit's fine, but the pepper business is definitely out!

Fudge: How dare you tell me how I may or may not treat my beloved Vincina?

PWeasley: Vincina?

Fudge: Yes, I'm working on what to say to her this evening.

PWeasley: Oh, yes. Of course. Thank Merlin.

Fudge: Alright?

PWeasley: Yes, I'm listening, Sir.

Fudge: Honestly, you really are the most graceless, dim-witted pumpkin I ever met.

PWeasley: I don't think you should say that to her.

(Fudge groans.)

Scene 7: Draco Malfoy's Dugout

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Malfoy: Where's that Crabbe? Its three o'clock in the morning, he should be careful wandering the trench at night with nothing to protect his honor but a handbag.

Crabbe: (Entering.) Hello Captain.

Malfoy: About time, where the hell have you been?

Crabbe: Well I don't know, it's all been like a dream, my very first regimental ball. The music, the dancing, the champagne, my mind is a mad world. Half whispered conversation with the promise of indiscretion ever hanging in the air.

Malfoy: So, that old stoke Fudge tried for a snog behind the fruit cup.

Crabbe: Certainly not! The general behaved like a perfect gentleman. We tired the moon with our talking about everything and nothing. The war, marriage, proposed changes to the Quidditch rulebook.

Malfoy: Fudge isn't married, is he?

Crabbe: No, no, all his life, he's been waiting to meet the perfect woman. And tonight, he did.

Malfoy: Some poor unfortunate had Old Walrus-face dribbling in her ear all evening, did she?

Crabbe: Well yes. As a matter of fact, I did have to drape a napkin over my shoulder, yes.

Malfoy: Crabbe, are you trying to tell me that you're the General's perfect woman?

Crabbe: Well, yes, I rather think I am.

Malfoy: Well, thank Merlin the horny old blighthead didn't ask you to marry him.

(Crabbe avoids Malfoy's gaze, affirming this fact in silence.)

Malfoy: He did! Well how did you get out of that one?

Crabbe: Well, to be honest, Sir, I'm not absolutely certain that I did.

Malfoy: WHAT!

Crabbe: You don't understand what it was like, Sir. You know, the candles, the music, the huge moustache, I can't remember it.

Malfoy: You said 'yes'?

Crabbe: Oh, well he is a general; I didn't really feel I could refuse. He might have me court-martialed.

Malfoy: Whereas on the other hand, of course, he's going to give you the Order of Merlin when he lifts up your frock on the wedding night and finds himself looking at the last turkey in the shop.

Crabbe: Yes, I, I, I know it's a mess, ah but, you see, he got me scriffy and then when he looked into my eyes and said 'Chipmunk, I love you.'

Malfoy: CHIPMUNK?

Crabbe: It's a special name for me, you see, he says my nose looks just like a chipmunk's.

Malfoy: Oh, Merlin! We're in serious, serious trouble here. If the General ever finds out that Vivacious Vincina is, in fact, a strapping six footer from the rough end of the trench, it will precipitate the fastest execution since someone said, 'This Grindlwald bloke, do we let him off, or what?'

(Floo starts up, Malfoy answers it.)

Malfoy: Hello? Yes, Sir. Straight away, Sir. (Stands up.) That was your fiancé, 'Chipmunk'. He wants to see me. If I should die, think only this of me, 'I'll be back to get ya!'

Scene 8: Percy Weasley's Office

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Malfoy: Sir, I can explain everything.

Fudge: Can you, Malfoy? Can you?

Malfoy: Well...no, Sir, not really.

Fudge: I thought not, I thought not. Who can explain the mysteries of love? I'm in love with Vincina, Malfoy. I'm going to marry her on Saturday and I want you to be my best man.

Malfoy: I don't think that would be a very good idea, Sir.

Fudge: And why not?

Malfoy: Because there's something wrong with your fiancée, Sir.

Fudge: Oh, Merlin, she's not Welsh, is she?

Malfoy: No, Sir. Um, it's a terrible story, but true. Just a few minutes ago Vincina arrived unexpectedly in my trench. She was literally dancing with joy as if something wonderful had happened to her.

Fudge: Makes sense.

Malfoy: Unfortunately, she was in such a daze, she danced straight out of the trench and out into No Man's Land. I tried to stop her, but before I could say, 'Don't tread on a mine', she trod on a mine.

(Fudge starts to sob.)

Malfoy: When I say 'a mine', it was a cluster of mines, and she was blown to smithereens, rocketed up into the air, said something I couldn't quite catch, totally incomprehensible to me, something like, 'Tell him, his little chipmunk will love him forever'.

(Fudge howls in sadness.)

PWeasley: It's heartbreaking, Sir.

Malfoy: I'm sorry, Sir.

Fudge: (Recovering.) Oh well, can't be helped, can't be helped.

PWeasley: Jolly bad luck, Sir. Of course, on top of everything else, without your leading lady, you won't be able to put on your show. So no show, no Diagon Alley Palladium.

Malfoy: On the contrary, I'm simply intending to rename it, the Vincina Fudge Memorial Show.

Fudge: Oh no, Vincina was the only thing that made the show come alive. Apart from her, it was all awful!

PWeasley: Awful!

Fudge: You'll never find a girl like Vincina by tomorrow.

Malfoy: Well, it's funny you should say that, Sir, because I think I already have.

Fudge: Who is she?

PWeasley: Who is she?

Scene 9: Draco Malfoy's Dugout

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Crabbe: (As his 'normal' male self.) So, come on, Sir, who is she?

Malfoy: Well, that's the problem. I haven't a bloody clue! The only woman around here is carved out of stone, called 'Venus', and standing in a fountain in the town square with water coming out of her armpits.

Crabbe: So we're a bit stuck.

GWeasley: (Passing through.) Morning, chaps.

Malfoy and Crabbe: Morning, Bob.

Malfoy: You can say that again, Crabbe. We're in a stickier situation since Sticky the Stick Insect got stuck on a sticky bun. We are in trouble.

(Enter Goyle in drag.)

Goyle: Not anymore, Sir. May I present my cunning plan.

Malfoy: Don't be ridiculous, Goyle. Can you sing? Can you dance? Or are you offering to be sawn in half?

Goyle: I don't think those things are important in a modern marriage, Sir. I offer simple home cooking.

Malfoy: Goyle, our plan is to find a new leading lady for our show. What is your plan?

Goyle: My plan is that I will marry General Fudge. I am the other woman.

Crabbe: Well, congratulations, Goyle. I hope you will be very happy.

Goyle: I will, Sir, 'cos when I get back from honeymoon, I will be a member of the aristocracy again and you will have to call me 'Milady'.

Malfoy: What happened to your Revolutionary principles, Goyle? I thought you hated the aristocracy.

Goyle: I'm working to bring down the system from within, Sir. I'm a sort of a Frozen Horse.

Malfoy: Trojan House, Goyle.

Goyle: Anyway, I can't see what's so stupid about wanting to marry into wealth for money and not having to sleep in a puddle.

Malfoy: Goyle, it's the worst plan since Boris the Bewildered decided to practice jousting with a windmill. And for a start, General Fudge is in mourning for the woman of his dreams. He's unlikely to be in the mood to marry a two-legged badger wrapped in a curtain... Anyway we are looking for a great entertainer and you're the worst entertainer since, well, Crabbe for one. Nah, we have to find somebody else.

Crabbe: What about Corporal Cartwright, Sir?

Malfoy: Corporal Cartwright looks like an orangutan. I've heard of the Bearded Lady, but the All Over Body Hair Lady just isn't on.

Crabbe: Willis?

Malfoy: Too short.

Crabbe: Petheridge?

Malfoy: Too old.

Crabbe: Taplowe?

Malfoy: Too dead. Ah, this is hopeless. There just isn't anyone!

(GWeasley is heard singing very prettily.)

GWeasley: 'Goodbyeee, goodbyeee, wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eyeee'.

Malfoy: What am I doing? (Calls out.) Bob!

(GWeasley comes out in a towel.)

GWeasley: Sir?

Crabbe: What a brilliant idea! Bob, can you think of anyone who can be our leading lady?

Scene 10: Backstage at the Concert

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(GWeasley comes in from offstage. Cheering can be heard.)

Crabbe: What do you think, Bob, one more?

GWeasley: No, Crabbe, always leave them hungry.

Malfoy: Congratulations Bob. I must admit, I thought you were bloody marvelous.

GWeasley: Thank you, Sir. Permission to slip into something more uncomfortable, Sir.

Malfoy: Permission granted.

Goyle: Oh, Sir, it's going to be wonderful. Not just for me, but for my little partner, Graham. Doing our tour halfway 'round the world.

Malfoy: Yes, from Shaftsbury Avenue to the Corte du Jour, they'll be saying, 'I like the little black one, but who's that burke its sitting on?'

Goyle: I'm not with you, Sir.

Malfoy: No, of course not. But don't worry; we'll have years in luxury hotels for me to explain. Now get packing, get packing. The train leaves at six and we're going to be on it.

(PWeasley enters.)

PWeasley: Malfoy.

Malfoy: Ah, Weasley, everything alright?

PWeasley: (Smirking.) Oh, yes.

Malfoy: Got the tickets?

PWeasley: (Still Smirking.) Oh, yes.

(Fudge enters.)

Fudge: Malfoy?

Malfoy: Oh, hi, General. Enjoy the show?

Fudge: Don't be ridiculous, the worst evening I've ever spent in my life!

Malfoy: I'm sorry?

Fudge: (Starts to yell.) If by a man's works shall you know him, than you are a steaming pile of horse manure.

Malfoy: But surely, Sir, the show was a triumph.

Fudge: (Yelling very loudly.) TRIMUPH? The Three Twerps were one Twerp short, AGAIN; the Slug Balancer seems now to be doing some feeble impression of the Weasley Brothers; and worst of all, the crowning turd in the water pipe, that revolting drag act in the end.

Malfoy: Drag?

Fudge: Yes, poor Bob Weasley's been made to look a total ass! With that reedy voice and that stupid effeminate dancing.

PWeasley: So the show's cancelled, permanently. (Rips up tickets.)

Malfoy: But what about the men's morale, Sir, with the House Elves out of the war and everything?

Fudge: Oh for goodness sake, Malfoy, have you been living in a cave? Weasley here owled his brothers and the Weasley Brothers sent us the entire collection of their films. Argh! I've lost patience with you. Fill him in, Weasley. (Exits.)

PWeasley: We received an owl this morning from my brothers, (Reads.) 'Twice nightly screening of our films in trenches, excellent idea. But must insist D. Malfoy be projectionist. Oh, PS, don't let him ever stop.'

Malfoy: Oh, great.

PWeasley: No hard feelings, Malfoy.

Malfoy: Not at all, Weasley. Uh, care for a licorice assortment?

PWeasley: (Accepts candy, which is actually Goyle's dead slug.) Well, thank you. (Eats it.)

Malfoy: (Smirking.) Not a problem...

THE END


End file.
